Leave a Path to Trace
by burnmedown
Summary: "Ray Perry takes care of the people who need him. Even if that means protecting them from their own families." Or: After Clay's hard-fought recovery from trauma, Ash Spenser pens a manuscript that includes details of his son's suffering. Bravo finds out. Ray handles it.


Written for SEAL Team Week, day six.

Prompts used: Ray, confronting Ash

The latter part of this story takes place between chapters 10 and 11 of _The Moon in a Broken Cage,_ which makes it one of very few to actually tie back to a previous fic I've written. You don't have to have read _The Moon in a Broken Cage_ to understand this, however; all you need to know is that Clay was captured for eight days, tortured, and suffered from post-traumatic stress and panic attacks for some time afterward.

Title from _Oblivion_ by Bastille.

* * *

The first time Ray meets his new neighbor kid, the boy is throwing jars at the big tree that marks the border between the two properties.

Ray is sitting outside on the porch, basking in the late afternoon silence. Jameelah and Naima are napping together inside the house, and for the moment, there's absolutely nothing Ray has to be doing.

It's been a stressful week. First, Jameelah came down with a nasty virus that ended up requiring an ER visit; she's just now starting to get over it. Then came the shitty mission where things went off the rails and Nate and the rookie both ended up hurt. All together, it has left Ray tired as hell. He desperately needs some peace and quiet.

He leans his head back, takes a sip of his drink... and then hears the pop and shatter of glass. Looks up just in time to see the jagged, broken-off handle of a Mason jar fly over the low fence and come to rest on his lawn.

_So this is how it's gonna be?_ Ray asks God. _You testing me now?_

He gets up and heads cautiously toward the fence, reaching it just in time to dodge another piece of glass as the skinny white kid on the other side picks up another jar and hurls it, with impressive strength and accuracy, at the trunk of the tree.

"Hey!" Ray calls sharply. The kid jumps like he's been hit with a cattle prod. He's scrawny and pale, eyes too big for his face, and starts to back away as soon as he realizes he's being observed.

Ray wants to be angry. He wants to be _furious._ The last thing he needs right now is to have to deal with this sort of shit. His toddler daughter plays on this grass every day, and what if he hadn't been outside to see the broken glass? What if he and Naima hadn't known it was there until their little girl went running barefoot across the lawn?

So yeah, he's pissed, but the kid is young, no older than maybe 13, and looks terrified. And it's not even just that. It's who he reminds Ray of.

White boy with big green eyes and a head of wild dark curls. He looks like a younger version of Bravo's rookie dog handler, like the overly quiet kid who just got tagged and gave them all one hell of a scare, and somehow that resemblance takes some of the edge off Ray's anger.

So he controls himself, keeping his voice even as he says, "Not a huge fan of having glass shards on my lawn, kid. You want to tell me what's going on here?"

The kid shakes his head slightly, backing further away.

Ray sighs. "What's your name?"

For a minute he thinks he won't get an answer. Then the boy finally mutters, "Wyatt."

"Hi, Wyatt. I'm Ray."

The kid doesn't look at him. Mumbles something incomprehensible. Keeps edging back, toward the neighbor's porch and front door that's standing part way open.

Now, that ain't gonna fly.

"Here's the deal," Ray says. "You broke all this glass. Some of it ended up in my yard. I've got a little girl who plays out here, and I don't want her getting cut. I'm gonna need you to help me clean it up. Okay?"

Wyatt keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. Finally, he nods, climbs over the short fence, and starts picking up the glass that landed in the Perry yard.

The fact that the jars were made of thick glass means the shards are bigger and easier to find than they might otherwise be, but it still makes Ray nervous. He'll need to warn Naima to keep Meelah away from this part of the yard for a while, until they can go over it with a fine-toothed comb to make sure they haven't missed anything.

Ray retrieves a trash can for the glass, and then they work in silence for a while. Finally the kid says quietly, in a tone caught somewhere between apology and defensiveness, "I didn't mean to get glass in your yard."

Ray bites down on the automatic retort that wants to come out, which is that it should have been a pretty obvious outcome. Instead he asks again, "What _were_ you trying to accomplish here, Wyatt?"

The boy gives a slight shrug. "Dunno," he mumbles. "Just wanted to break something, I guess."

Ray thinks about that, and then he nods. "Okay," he says. "Okay. I can understand that feeling, but there are better ways to handle it. You got a hell of an arm. Ever thought about playing sports? Quarterback? Pitcher?"

Wyatt shakes his head. "Never really stayed in one place long enough," he admits quietly.

Ray is starting to get an idea of where all that anger might be coming from. He rolls with it, saying, "Well, if you get a chance, it might be something to look into. Otherwise, you could try running. Can do that just about anywhere. Good way to burn off some frustration. I know that from experience."

All he gets in response is a nod, but he figures it's better than nothing.

When they're almost done, Wyatt says suddenly, still not looking at him, "My dad died. I live with my aunt now. She doesn't want me."

Ray doesn't know his neighbor well, just that she's a middle-aged woman who's always tended to keep to herself. His first instinct is to want to question Wyatt's view of the situation, but he realizes he doesn't actually know what's going on here. The kid's perception could be wrong, or it could be absolutely correct. Not Ray's place to decide which it is.

So all he says is, "That sucks. I'm sorry."

Wyatt presses his lips together and bobs another little nod. He starts to leave. Ray starts to let him, and then he blows out a breath and calls, "Hey. No more breaking stuff, okay? If you start feeling like you want to throw jars, come over, and maybe I can help you find something more constructive to do."

"Okay," Wyatt says after a minute, and then he disappears inside.

That's the start.

Wyatt doesn't come to the Perry house, but a few weeks later Ray spots him sitting in the back yard, notebook balanced on his knees, staring down at a sheet of paper with an expression that suggests he wants to cry.

Ray debates for a minute, sighs, and then calls the kid over.

Math homework sucks. It sucks more when you don't have anybody to help you with it. So Ray helps.

It's not like they hang out all the time, but gradually Wyatt starts reaching out more often, talking more, opening up. He needs help with school projects. He needs to know how to avoid shin splints, because he has taken up running like Ray suggested. He wants advice on trying out for the baseball team - 'advice' here mostly just meaning 'encouragement.'

When Ray's next deployment comes up, he doesn't like the thought of the kid having nobody to reach out to, so he starts deliberately inviting Derek over on days when he knows Wyatt will be there. Before leaving, Ray gives the kid Derek's number so he'll still have someone familiar to talk to if he really needs it.

Not long after Ray returns from deployment, Wyatt starts getting quieter. Reaching out less often. Turning up with black eyes, split lips. Never anything serious, but enough to make Ray uneasy.

Apparently, while Ray was gone, Wyatt's aunt found a boyfriend.

Quietly, without putting the kid on the spot, Ray confirms that his suspicions are correct. Then, with the help of Derek and a couple other SEALs, he makes damn sure that the aunt's boyfriend knows better than to ever come within a mile of the kid again.

Later, Wyatt mentions in passing that his aunt is sad because her boyfriend broke up with her for no apparent reason. He looks relieved when he says it, like a weight has been lifted off his back.

Ray just nods, claps Wyatt on the shoulder, and moves on to helping him with his essay.

Wyatt makes it onto the baseball team and turns out to be one hell of a pitcher. The first time he brings over a report card that's all A's and B's, Ray and Naima both praise him until he looks down and blinks rapidly to try to hide the tears they both know are there.

Life moves on. Sometimes Ray and Wyatt will go a few weeks without talking to each other, but the kid always asks for help at the moments when he really needs it. Learning to tie a tie. Getting up the courage to ask a girl to prom. When Wyatt's team makes it to the state tournament, Ray even manages to attend a couple of the games.

Nate dies, and Bravo drafts a cocky rookie as his replacement. Ray and Naima's family grows. Wyatt hits a growth spurt, shoots up like a weed, starts putting on muscle. The first time his coach's radar gun clocks his fastball at 90 MPH, he calls chattering about scholarships, getting drafted one day, maybe playing in the majors. Full of dreams that he didn't dare let himself have, back when Ray first met him.

Sure enough, once Wyatt is old enough, the scholarship offers start arriving. Between the solid grades he has managed to maintain and the fact that he can top 90 as a left-handed high-schooler, multiple Division 2 schools are interested, in Virginia as well as other states.

Ray is helping Wyatt sort through those offers, figure out his college application paperwork, when the call comes in from Jason.

"Need you on base," Bravo One says shortly, with an undercurrent to his voice that makes the hair on the back of Ray's neck stand up. "Team meeting." Jason pauses. "It's about Clay."

And that's when Ray's heart drops through the floor, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what the hell could be wrong. What could be so serious as to make Jason sound like that.

They're past this, aren't they? Ray really thought they were past this. It's been a long road since they finally got Spenser back from the assholes who'd held and tortured him for eight long days, but Clay has been doing so well. His physical recovery is almost complete, and he's been sleeping better, having fewer panic attacks. They're all starting to let themselves look forward to _really_ having him back, operating with the team where he belongs. Things haven't been the same without him.

"I'll be right there," Ray manages to say.

He turns, but Wyatt is already waving him away with a knowing look. "I got it, Uncle Ray. Go on."

Ray meets the rest of the team, sans Spenser, at the cages. Judging by the fact that they all look like they want to murder someone, Ray must be the last to get clued in to whatever is going on here.

Jason is leaned against the outside of his cage, bouncing his knee, hand on his chin. "Got a call from a friend of mine this morning," he says abruptly. "Doesn't want to be named, but we operated together. I saved his ass a time or two. He operated with Ash Spenser, too. They've stayed in touch."

Jason hesitates, looks away, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Ray waits until Bravo One finally continues, voice even tighter, "Apparently Ash showed him the manuscript for his new book, and there's a section about Clay. About... what happened to Clay. While he was captured." He grits his teeth, grinding them audibly. "Kid must have made the mistake of telling him."

Ray blinks. Hoarsely, he says, "You have got to be _shitting_ me. Ash put it in his _book?"_

Jason nods shortly.

"I'm gonna kill that asshole," Sonny says conversationally. "Ain't nobody ever gonna find his body."

Ignoring him, Jason continues, "Our mutual friend didn't feel right about it, so he gave me the heads-up. Said Clay wasn't named, Ash used a pseudonym for him, but it'll be obvious to anybody in DEVGRU who he's talking about."

And, more importantly, to Clay.

His pain and humiliation and suffering, bared to the whole damn world.

All the progress they've made with him, all the work he's put in to recover from the time he spent in that hellhole... this will break him. The thought of it sets a fire in Ray's chest, makes him clench his fists for want of a neck to wring.

He wants to agree with Sonny. He wants to kill Clay's worthless excuse for a father. The anger claws at his throat, but he forces himself to think through it. To channel it, use it instead of letting it use him.

"What do we do?" He asks.

"Kill him," Sonny says quickly, and is greeted by several nods.

Jason shakes his head. "We can't kill him. But we've got to make sure he takes that shit out of his book. And then never goes near Clay again."

"I'll handle it," Ray offers. When Jason shoots him a look, he raises his eyebrows. "Come on, Jace. You think anybody else here can be trusted not to lose it and beat the shit out of him? Except maybe Brock, because Brock would just have the dog rip his arm off instead."

Brock nods placidly, not bothering to deny it.

Jason exhales. "Fine," he says. "You go talk to him. But if he doesn't listen..." His smile shows too many teeth. "Well, then we'll handle it another way."

The next time Ash Spenser comes home from picking up groceries, he finds Ray leaning casually on the wall beside his apartment door.

"Senior Chief Perry," the slimy asshole greets in an overly friendly tone. "What brings you here?"

Ray pushes off the wall and takes a couple steps forward. Keeping his voice quiet and calm, he says, "Your son. More specifically, the fact that your son apparently stars in your new book."

There's a flicker of surprised anger, and then Ash's eyes go shifty. "Pretty sure that's my business."

"Concerns my brother, so I'm pretty sure it isn't," Ray shoots back. "Do you remember the first time you ever held him after he was born?" he asks, his voice growing even softer. He leans in. "How small he was? The way his head smelled, and the sound of those tiny little squeaky breaths? Because I have two babies, and I sure as hell remember. I'd have broken the world in half to keep them safe. I still would."

Ash huffs a bit, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the wall somewhere past Ray's face. He doesn't even bother to respond.

"I will never understand how you could have been given a gift like that, and then decided to just throw him away." Ray can't keep his voice from shaking with quiet, contained rage. "But it's even worse than that, because you somehow managed to earn back his trust, and then you took advantage of him while he was hurting. You learned how much your child had suffered, and then you decided to _use _that for your own benefit." Disgust thick in his voice, he finishes, "You never deserved to be a father."

"I don't have to listen to this," Ash bites out, turning away and taking a step to the side.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Ashland," Ray says calmly. "You sure the fuck do. Because the rest of Bravo is waiting right around that corner, and if you make it that far, I will not be responsible for what they do next." He lets his mouth curve into a humorless smile. "They chose me because they thought I could be trusted to not beat your head in, but if you walk away from me, it's out of my hands."

"Y'all aren't gonna do shit," Ash scoffs, but he doesn't make any further attempts to leave.

"It's pretty clear at this point that you can't be shamed, because apparently you don't have enough of a soul for that," Ray says. "So what you're gonna be instead is threatened. You're gonna remove everything related to Clay from that manuscript. I don't give a damn if it's been anonymized; _all_ of it goes. If there's a single word in there that we even suspect is about him, we will burn you. And if you think that's an empty threat, Ash, stop for a minute and consider how many people Jason Hayes has on his side. Operators who owe him their lives, are long since retired, and have a lot less to lose than we do. Operators who served with you and know some stories that could sure as hell take the shine off the pretty public persona you've built for yourself."

Ash leans back against the wall. Ray notes with satisfaction that his face has gone several shades paler.

"You take that shit out of your book, and you stay far, far away from Clay, or we will find a way to _ruin_ you." He pauses, then adds cheerfully, "Also we might beat your head in. I think Sonny literally has a baseball bat with your name on it."

"_Fine,"_ Ash spits. "I'll do it. Now leave before I call the police."

Ray leaves.

They've done what they can about the Ash problem, and now they have to move on to the next step: trying to figure out what the hell they're going to tell Clay. How to explain why he can't see his father anymore, without breaking him - because while Clay is doing a lot better than he was, he still isn't in the best headspace to receive news like this.

They'll figure something out. Clay will be okay. They'll be with him every step of the way, like they have been since the day they got him back.

Ray was telling the truth when he told Ash Spenser that he couldn't understand him. He can't possibly imagine what it must be like inside that man's head. How he could ever, even to himself, justify treating his own son like this.

The people who need you, who depend on you, you take care of them. Especially if they're your children, but even if they aren't.

Wyatt. Clay. His brothers. Ray is there for them when they need him, fights for them when they can't fight for themselves. He doesn't know how not to.

On the way over to Clay's apartment, Ray's phone buzzes with a text: _Sorry to bother you but could use a proofreader for this essay_

Ray smiles to himself. He texts back, _Never a bother, Wy. Send it and I'll look it over._

Better yet, maybe he'll have Clay look it over. Spenser is damn good with words and it'll be good for him to have something to work on. A distraction from all this shit with his father.

The reply comes a few minutes later: _Thank you. For everything_

_Anytime,_ Ray responds, and then he shoves his phone back into his pocket and heads inside Clay's apartment building to be there for his brother while they find a way to break the news.


End file.
